


Crescendo

by plumtrees



Series: MatsuHana Week 2015 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Mild S&M, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1 for MatsuHana Week: Online</p><p>-</p><p>The voice continues to feed him instructions, the deep rumbling purrs reverberating across his body, each hiss and click of a consonant like a sharp bite, each roll of his tongue a slide of silk against his overheating skin.</p><p>Fuck, he loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crescendo

"Wider." 

The voice is deep, lightly accented around the vowels, too obviously male. It's honeyed and teasing but the tone is heavy and commanding, and Hanamaki, desperate, aching and hypersensitive, can't help but obey.

"Good." the voice purrs and he whimpers, the praise making his cock twitch.

"Look at yourself, look at how you're hard and leaking and you haven't even touched yourself yet." the other goads, and Hanamaki clears his hazy eyesight to stare down at himself, then glances at the computer screen to take in the sight that his webcam is recording. His skin is paler and washed with blue from the light of his laptop, but splotches of pink spread from his cheeks to his shoulders, culminating on the reddened head of his exposed cock. A delicate bead of white sits at the tip, and Hanamaki sucks his already abused bottom lip into his mouth and bites until it's swollen red.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?"

"Yes, please." he whines, arousal pooling low in his gut as he leans back and shuts his eyes.

"So pretty when you beg." the other says, and follows with a short chuckle, too amused to be insincere but too measured to be genuine. "Alright." he acquiesces and Hanamaki's hand practically flies to his dick.

The voice gives a disapproving grunt and Hanamaki's eyes snap open. "I didn't say to touch your dick."

 _You didn't say I couldn't either_ he thinks but bites it back. Instead, he obediently moves his hand back to his knee. "I'm sorry." he amends, and gets a soft scoff in return.

"If I was there, you would've gotten ten lashes for that one." the other tuts. Hanamaki gulps as he remembers the crack of the whip as it slices the air before it hits his back, recalls the lines of fire across his back and he moans without even realizing it.

"Oh?" the voice sings, the single syllable climbing three notes, making Hanamaki shudder. "You like that?"

"Yes." he answers, barely a breath. The voice gives an intrigued little hum, and there is the thoughtful tapping of fingers against wood.

"What else would you want me to do to you?"

Hanamaki wets his lips, trying to spread enough saliva around his too-dry mouth. "I'd want you to touch me." he rasps. "Make me come."

"Be a little more creative, sweetheart." the voice rebukes playfully, purring around the endearment and Hanamaki's eyes clench shut. "Give me details."

The voice stops then, waits for him to fill the silence. "Pull me onto your lap, my back to your chest, spread me open with your hands and knees." Hanamaki narrates. He pictures it, replaces the soft pillow on his back with the feel of a firm, broad chest, tries to imagine the hands on his knees aren't his own but someone else's. The voice hums in approval and Hanamaki moans in tandem.

"Would you like me to do that in front of a mirror too? Make you watch yourself go crazy and fall apart as I hang you over the edge of orgasm for _hours_ before actually letting you come?"

"Oh God," slips out, and he almost kicks the laptop when his leg stretches out, heels sliding against the sheets. "Please, I need—"

"Tell me, sweetheart," the voice encourages, and Hanamaki reels himself back in, panting harshly to calm the raging need to just stroke himself until he explodes.

"I need to _come_." he begs, voice breaking in his desperation. The tapping from the other end stops and he hears a faint sound of a zipper coming undone.

"Put your middle and index finger in your mouth. Get them nice and wet." he commands and Hanamaki is too quick to obey, obediently licking up and around two fingers, keeping half-lidded but blazing eyes on the camera as he does so.

The voice continues to feed him instructions, the deep rumbling purrs reverberating across his body, each hiss and click of a consonant like a sharp bite, each roll of his tongue a slide of silk against his overheating skin.

Fuck, he loves it. He loves it so much.

The headphones (thank _god_ Hanamaki paid extra for the high-end ones) encapsulate his ears and make the voice feel less disembodied, like the person is right there, right behind him, lips just barely brushing his ear. It amplifies every order, every command, every sensation.

"Nipples." the voice hisses, and Hanamaki lets his hand drop to his chest. They're already hard and peaked in the chilly air of the room. He closes wet fingers around the nubs and swirls them around, the slick heat brought by the path he traces quickly becoming replaced by the harsh cold. His breaths hitch as he brings his hands even lower at the voice's insistence, teasing along the edges of his hole, the seam of his balls, the base of his dick. He strains with the exertion of being denied, fights not to arch into his own touch as he puts his body up for display, places his pleasure and relief into the hands of the one watching.

"You're shaking, sweetheart." the other coos. "It's not enough isn't it? You need more but you're not gonna do it unless I say so, aren't you?"

Hanamaki fights to gather cognition to answer, but the other does not wait, breathes harsh and deep and growls. "Go ahead."

He finally takes himself into his hand with grateful moan, pumping furiously up until the voice reminds him to _Keep it slow_. Hanamaki relents, practically fucking into his own fist as a litany of _That's it, keep going, you look so good like this, so perfect, yes_ rings in his ears and it's more than enough to send him hurtling towards his end.

He groans low in his throat when he finally comes, whines as his hand continues to force every drop out, jerking with spasms as the built-up tension finally finds release.

"Fuck that was _awesome_." Hanamaki wheezes, too out of breath to do much else.

"I can tell." The voice says, extremely proud, and the lighting shifts when Matsukawa turns his webcam on, replacing the empty blue screen with his smirking face. Hanamaki winces slightly and blinks to help his eyes adjust.

"Ass." Hanamaki huffs, and works to relax his stretched out legs. He eyes the mess he made, removes the thin towel he used to cover his laptop keyboard, and uses it to wipe his screen. "Need help?"

"Oh my god, did you come all over the screen?" Matsukawa laughs at Hanamaki's glare and props his chin on his palm. 

"And no, I'm good." Matsukawa says before Hanamaki could snidely retract the offer. His face is still obviously flushed, despite how washed out the webcam and lighting makes his skin look. He's eyeing Hanamaki the way he always does after sex, and it's not dampened at all by the fact that he's looking at Hanamaki through a computer screen. Hanamaki feels his face go warm at the sight. "Might be for the next week or so. You put on a pretty good show, babe."

"Only for you." Hanamaki replies, completely mollified, instinctively inching closer to the screen. The heat of the moment has left him and now he's warm and pliant, craving Matsukawa's soft touch. Nothing but the cold, smooth surface of the laptop meets his nose (Really, what did he expect?) and he draws back, meeting Matsukawa's affectionate gaze. "Come home sooner?"

Matsukawa's lips curl in a bitter smile. "Wish I could."

Hanamaki sighs softly into the silence, letting his eyelids droop and comforted by the soft sound of Matsukawa's breathing through his headset. He's sleepy but he hates how empty and cold the bed feels, how eerie the silence is when Matsukawa's breaths and nightly murmurs weren't being whispered into his ear.

"You should go. It's late, and you're tired." Matsukawa chides gently, and he knows he's seen the dark shadows that line Hanamaki's eyes, much darker than usual.

"Okay," he relents, and lets the mouse hover over the end call button with excruciating slowness. "Love you. Bye."

"I love you too. Sweet dreams." he responds, and Hanamaki clicks, because he knows from experience that if he hesitates, they'll be there for another hour.

He shuts down his laptop and tucks it under the bed, and thinks, at least tomorrow, he'll be one day closer to seeing Matsukawa again.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'm just really deprived right now but when I saw those prompts I automatically wrote pr0nz for like...3 of them. *nervous laughter*


End file.
